The Truth Between Lies
by daydream57
Summary: Musical-based. A change in one scene changes the entire story. Not much Raoul in this one, but that does not make this an automatic E/C. What of the lies between our two main characters? Will they find truth or, better yet, will they endure the truth?
1. Chapter 1

**If you're reading this, hello! I've tried posting a couple of other phics before, but I have never thought they were good enough. I will try my hand at this one. Please be nice if you review. Thank you.**

**Chapter 1**

_The Dressing Room Scene following Hannibal_

The dressing room looked far more pristine than usual with bouquets of flowers and chocolates everywhere. The only place that wasn't completely covered with elaborate things was in front of the large wall mirror.

The performance went wonderfully. Christine's final aria, "Think of Me", brought the crowd to a standing ovation. Maybe it pleased the managers so much that they would not ask Carlotta to come back. Maybe _she_ would become the new prima donna! Her angel would be so proud.

Christine stood in front of her mirror and combed her hair while still trying to take in the evening's events and praying her angel would visit her soon.

Suddenly, though, Raoul de Chagney walked into the room. Christine turned towards him when she saw his reflection through the mirror.

"Christine!" he proclaimed good naturedly while rushing over to where she stood.

"Raoul! I- I did not think you would remember me." She hugged her childhood friend.

"How could I forget my Little Lotte?" He smiled when he saw her face brighten at the old nickname. "You sang so well tonight. You always have had a beautiful voice, you know."

"Thank you! It felt so good to be on stage. Just as Daddy promised I would be…" Her eyes took on a glassy look.

"Your father. Christine.. I am so sorry about his death. I know how hard it must be for you. He was all you had."

His sympathetic eyes took on a look of confusion when Christine smiled. "Raoul, everything is ok." She took a deep breath.

Holding his hands, Christine looked deep into his eyes.

"'Father said, 'When I am in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you'.'" Taking a pause, she studied his features considering if she should continue. "'Well, father is dead, Raoul, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music.' I really have." Christine was so glad to finally entrust one of her deepest secrets to both her best friend, Meg, and her friend from the past, Raoul.

He stared at her for a moment to make sure she was just kidding. When he saw she really wasn't, he grinned. "Little Lotte, you _do_ still believe in those tales, don't you?"

"What do you mean? Of course I do."

He laughed loudly but continued to hold her hands. "Christine, I suppose I should tell you the truth. Someone should, and I care for you far too much to keep it from you. His stories were only _stories_, Christine."

She stared into his eyes. "But, I am being serious. I would not make this up."

Raoul shook his head. "Christine, how old are you now?"

"Nineteen."

"And, you still believe in the Angel of Music?"

"Yes."

"You say he has come to you?"

"Yes."

"Well.. what does he look like?"

Christine's confidence in her angel lessened somewhat. "I have not seen him, actually."

"Well, there you have it."

"'There' I have what?"

"The Angel of Music does not exist, Christine." He crossed his arms against his chest to emphasize his statement.

His words caused her eyes to widen. For a moment, she could not speak. Soon, though, Christine became angry. "You think I am making this up! You think I am insane! He does exist, Raoul. I hear him! I hear him!"

Raoul sighed and pulled her into a hug. "Please, forget this nonsense. Come with me. Let us go to dinner to bask in your success."

Christine shook her head realizing her childhood friend had definitely changed in the years spent apart. "I am sorry Raoul, but I have other plans."

In that oh-so-stereotypically depressed and startled way, he asked, "Is it another?"

She really had no idea. "Um.. yes. Yes, Raoul, it is another. I am very sorry. Can we still stay friends?"

"Of course, Lotte." He couldn't hide his despair. "It will be like old times." With that, he left the room.

Christine was alone again. _Is it 'another'? I am not so sure. I cannot think of my angel in a romantic way! That is sacrilegious! But, how I wish he were a man… A living, breathing, breathtakingly handsome man! _She sighed getting lost in her thoughts.

Little did the brunette know, she was not alone. She was never alone. It was a vow the man behind Christine's room mirror had kept since she was a young girl.

He heard and saw everything that transpired between Christine, his young Protégé, and Raoul de Chagney, the aristocratic patron of the Paris Opera House. _My opera house, _he thought with a smirk.

On bated breath, he waited while they greeted one another. It just so happened that Christine was going to be visited by her 'angel', the man behind the mirror, had this boy not entered.

He waited fearing Christine would give into the boy's words. _"There is no Angel of Music, Christine."_ He gasped when hearing the aristocrat's remark. He was sure Christine would finally see the lie, the lie that had transpired between man and woman, 'angel' and girl. It was all a lie, after all. Every voice lesson, every song, every rose… they were all built on lies. The boy was speaking the truth.

But, it seemed Christine was still a girl, an innocent child blinded from reality. _A__nd thank goodness for that_, he thought in relief. She refused to go with Raoul. She refused because there was 'another'.

This definitely startled the man behind the mirror. Never did he think Christine would refer to him in anything but angelic terms, much less _romantic_. Or, at least, he hoped he was 'the other'.

His hopes were confirmed when she did nothing but sit in an arm chair when the boy left. She was waiting for someone. _Me_..

"Christine, my child." His silky voice seemed to come from every direction.

Christine looked towards the ceiling and around with a dreamy smile. "Angel."

"Yes. You have made me very proud. Your performance was commendable. _Both_ performances were outstanding."

"Both, Angel?"

Of course she would not think of the latter as performing. "You have followed my orders, dear child. You did not give into the distraction, Monsieur de Chagney."

Her face took on an untrusting tint. "He does not believe in you, Angel. H- he is a waste of my time."

It was one of those rare moments when she actually showed her anger. Her 'angel' loved to open Christine's emotions. "Yes, that he is."

Christine's thoughts went to the conversation she and Raoul had. _What does he look like? _She bit her lip uneasily before asking, "Angel?"

"Yes, Christine?" His voice was hauntingly beautiful.

"Um, I was just wondering,… C-can you take human form? Can I see you?"

"No," came his instant reply. "No. I do not 'take human form'. Therefore, you cannot see me."

"Oh." Christine was secretly _very_ upset. "One more question… and this is my final question, I promise."

"And, what might it be?" he asked patiently.

"Do you have a name?"

He paused and moved the violin case he was holding from his right hand to his left. "I do. It is… Erik."

"Erik. That is a nice name." She smiled, and her eyes fell upon a red rose with a black ribbon tied around its stem. It was lying on her dresser.

It was the first time Erik could remember that a female had spoken his true name. His heart beat more rapidly at the sound of it. Actually, he couldn't recall ever feeling _this_ way before. Ever since Christine mentioned him to the boy as 'another'.

Quickly composing his thoughts, he stated, "You should change clothes, sweet child."

"Alright." She was about to go dutifully behind her changing screen before quickly adding, "Please, do not leave."

"I would never leave you, Christine."

She changed into a white nightgown and returned to her arm chair.

They spoke of the evening for a while before Christine finally yawned. "Angel.. I mean, Erik, I have one more question."

Erik knew she would have one of two requests. The only question was, which one? "Anything, angel."

She smiled at what he called her. "Will you sing something?"

_So, she chose singing. Very well, the violin case will just have to stay shut tonight._ Erik chose a calming piece before setting his dizzyingly amazing and mysterious tenor voice to work.

Pretty soon, Christine was sound asleep in the arm chair.

Erik sighed from behind the mirror but continued singing.

Gently, he opened the mirror and stepped into her room. As if she were as light as a feather, he lifted Christine from the chair and tucked her into bed.

Before returning to his place behind the mirror, he studied her face for several moments. _What is it I feel for this girl?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank****s to those of you who added this story to your Favorite's list and Story Alert list!** **Here's more...**

**Chapter 2**

Two days passed in a lazy way. Christine had been told by Erik that she would have a lesson in five nights' time. He thought she should rest before and after every performance of Hannibal until it was over, which would be in five nights.

The performances were great excuses not to see Christine, Erik thought. Really, he needed some time away from her. It wasn't that he was sick of her. God no, it wasn't that. For the second time in his life, though, Erik was confused -the first being when he was given a mask at the age of three-. His protégé was doing something she'd never done before. She was becoming _more_ than a protégé. Erik's emotions were draining him of all else. He could barely think for these invading feelings.

_Why, oh why, must she do this to me?_ After eleven years of basically fathering the child, Erik was realizing that he could not serve as a father-figure any longer. He could not serve as her angel any longer, either. He was nothing to her now. There were no ties between them.

It was the most miserable feeling. Although her belief in her angel was as strong as ever, Erik knew it would all change soon.

_But, how?_ That was the question. All Erik knew was this- he was developing intimate feelings for Christine Daae. There, it was finally out in the open.

No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew it was true.

Five days without seeing Christine was one of the largest challenges he'd ever had to face. Not seeing her was driving him mad, causing hauntingly sensual but angry compositions to fill countless amounts of paper.

_Yes, it is true. I am in love with that sweet, precious girl_. It took three and a half days for the knowledge to be confirmed in Erik's mind, and then there was no doubt.

Christine was taking their time apart almost harder than Erik.

It was the first time in eleven years that she and her angel had been apart for over a day.

She thought she might go insane without his guidance.

Three days passed with beautiful nights and horrible days. The nightly performances were going incredibly well, but days were spent yearning and staying ghostly quiet.

The fourth day, though, things changed.

It was a morning rehearsal, and Christine and the cast were just about ready to take a lunch break.

Suddenly, though, a curtain fell from above the stage to the floor directly towards Christine's head.

A certain Joseph Buquet, the head of stage crew, yelled, "Ms. Daae, move!"

Christine moved back at the last second, and the curtain fell to the floor.

"Oh," the surprised brunette whispered with her hand clutching the fabric of her dress over her heart.

The managers and Giry's were instantly at her side. She and Meg hugged, both terrified.

"Buquet, what the devil is the meaning of this?" Messier Andre yelled.

"I'ma sorry, sirs. I dunno how tha' thing fell." He was looking directly into Christine's eyes as he spoke.

Messier Firmin piped up, "We could have you fired for this, you know!"

"No, no, sirs! It'll never happen agin, I swear it!"

A frail voice cut through the tension. "Please, don't fire him. It couldn't be helped. It was not his fault. And, he saved me. I could have been hit." Christine looked towards Buquet and smiled.

Andre then sighed. "I suppose you are right. It could not be helped."

"Lunch break!" Firmin yelled. "Everyone is to be back in two hours."

Everyone hurried out with delighted expressions, except for Meg and Christine. "I cannot believe that almost happened, Meg."

"I know! I am so glad you are all right." Then, she asked a question. "What if it was the Phantom?"

Christine raised an eyebrow. "Meg! You cannot be serious. What would he have against me, anyway?"

"I don't know, Christine. He seems to have something against opera leads, though.. Look at Carlotta!"

Christine gulped. "Well, that is true.." _But, my angel wouldn't let me get hurt_. She smiled at the thought.

The girls were almost to the dining hall when Joseph Buquet approached Christine. The man was tall, chubby, overbearing, and smelled of liquor. He took her hand and kissed it trying, but not succeeding, to be a gentleman. "Mademoiselle, I'ma so sorry fur' what happened back there. If there's inythin' I can do?"

Christine laughed lightly and prayed that Meg would not leave her alone with this man. "Just, try not to let it happen again." She smiled and walked past him.

Buquet would not have that, though. He, again, approached her. "Miss, if I could, to make up fur' it, buy yous' a drink?"

"I- I am sorry, Sir. I am too busy for that." Christine was very sick of his lingering presence.

"Well, at least let me getcha yer' lunch drink." Her face took on an answer of 'no', but he continued, "Please, it's the leas- I cin do."

"Well, all right. If you really want to.." Meg looked at her in confusion, but Christine just shrugged. "Thank you, Sir."

The girls walked on, both whispering to one another about the odd occurrence.

Erik was staring at his most recent composition blankly. "This is maddening!" he finally yelled. "Why must I think of her?"

_Because, you are madly in love with her._

"Why?" he yelled.

_She is beautiful, sweet, caring, innocent, and she has the most intriguing voice you have ever heard. Friendship with such a girl would be quite impossible. You have been with her for so long…_

Memories of their first meeting came rushing back.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

_A seven-year-old brunette was on the roof._

'_Why on earth is she on __**my**__ roof?' A twenty-year-old young man in a mask wondered who she was._

_This seven-year-old was weeping. She was alone and crying her heart out while looking towards the night sky._

_It looked as if she were crying for no reason. But, the young man in the mask knew that was not true. She would not cry without a reason. Suddenly, she spoke._

"_Why, Daddy? Why did you leave me? You said you would not ever leave me. You promised! But, you lied. You told me to never tell a lie, and you did. Why, Daddy, why?" She buried her little face in her small hands._

_Erik stared at her and realized that, for the first time in his life, he felt pity for another. He pitied this child. 'What has caused her such despair? Did he die? Yes, of course that is it. She does look far too young to be in this opera house for any other reason. Maybe her mother works here?'_

_Again, she spoke. But, this time, it was a yell. "I am alone! I do not have anyone! No mother, no father, nobody! What did I do to deserve it? I had to have done something to be this way!"_

'_She is all alone? Then, why is she here? My opera house is not an orphanage! I will have to speak to the managers about this.'_

"_Maybe I was not good enough for you, Daddy? Maybe that is it. But, I tried as hard as I could. I brought you tea and made you laugh. I sang for you. I miss singing!" She broke down in sobs again._

'_Singing?' This interested him._

_Finally, after a while, the girl gained control of her small body. "What if I cannot sing anymore? What if I am nothing without you, Daddy?"_

_Then, she sang. She sang to see if she still could. She sang a lullaby._

_The young man in the mask nearly fell over at the sound of such a voice. He took a few deep breaths. 'What in god's name? How can __**that**__ voice come from __**that**__ child? She is too small to produce that kind of sound, yet… she is producing it.' The song ended, and his breathing ceased._

_The girl began crying again._

'_It is not just a pretty voice,' the masked boy decided. 'There is such sorrow in that voice.' He connected with her sorrow._

"_Where is my angel? Did you lie about that, too, Daddy? Where is my Angel of Music? You said you would send him! Why haven't you?" Again, she buried her face in her hands._

'_Angel? That girl believes in angels. How pathetic.'_

_Then, the young man smiled mischievously. 'It would be easy. Me, a person who can never show himself, could pretend. I need this! We both need this.' He watched her continue to cry and was about to step out to say something as an 'angel'. 'Wait. I cannot. I am a monster. I am not even human, so how could I __**ever**__ be an angel?' Then, 'I do not have to show myself! Yes, I can be a voice. That is my most 'angelic' quality, after all. Yes, only a voice.'_

'_But, what kind of voice? Strict? Sweet? –no, I could never be nice all of the time- ,… __**Both!**__ Yes, both.'_

_The girl did not change positions from sitting and crying beneath the statue of Apollo._

_The boy moved to a good hiding place and began his first act- The Angel Descends-. "Dear child.."_

_Instantly, the girl uncovered her face. "Yes? I- I'm sorry. I know I'm not supposed to be out so late, bu-"_

_In an even silkier voice, he continued, "My poor, sweet child. Why do you weep?"_

_She stood and turned trying to find where the voice was coming from. It was impossible. "Who are you?" she asked curiously while sniffling._

"_I believe I asked the first question," he warmly replied._

"_I am crying because my daddy left me," was all she said._

"_Do you know who I am, little one?" He watched her from his hiding place._

"_No… I do not think so." The child's brow furrowed. "Let me guess. Are you Daniel? Jacob? Christopher?" She was naming all of the boys she already knew from the opera's chorus._

_He despised being compared to others and, with forceful cheer, replied, "No, I am none of them." He paused for effect before saying, "I am your angel."_

_She gasped, and more tears fell down her cheeks. "My Angel of Music? R-really?"_

"_I am," he replied with mesmerizing ease._

"_I was just praying you would come! I cannot believe it!" But, she did._

From that night on, Christine was Erik's pupil. But, their relationship was a lie, and that lie was beginning to become too much for Erik to handle…

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Christine and Meg walked to their friends' table and sat down. Instantly, everyone complimented Christine on her voice and Meg on her dancing. Both girls were the best at what they did.

Meg then appeared to come to some sort of conclusion and whispered to Christine, "I think Joseph is taken with you."

"What? That is insane! Is he not married?" Meg shook her head in the negative. "But, he is old enough to be my father!" She sucked in a breath at the mention of 'father' but got over the pain quickly enough.

"Well, I am just saying what I think."

"Well, I hope you are wrong."

"Me, too," Meg replied.

Joseph brought Christine her drink, bowed, and walked away.

Everyone ate and drank, glad for their two hour break. Everyone, that is, except for Joseph Buquet. He waited outside the door of the dining hall. He waited for Christine.

It was in the middle of her meal that Christine began to feel strange. Something was not right. Trying to figure it out made everything worse. She felt like she would pass out. "I- I will be.. right back.." Christine quickly walked to the door trying to get to a ladies' room.

Just as she got outside the dining hall, though, she fell to the ground.

The last thing she saw was Joseph Buquet's face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Buquet smiled devilishly and picked up his prize, Christine. His plan went just as he had hoped. He was the one who dropped the curtain, and he was the one who put the strong sleeping powder in her drink.

Now, it was time for business. He would rip this enticing girl of her virginity just to sate his manly desires.

Not having a room of his own at the opera house, for he lived close by instead, he took her to her own room.

Once inside, Buquet locked the door and placed Christine on her bed. _This'll be one helluva good time_, the man decided.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Elsewhere, Erik developed a dry taste in his mouth. "Something is amiss," he thought aloud while staring at a composition. He stood from the organ's bench and began to pace the lair.

A bad feeling was eating away at his brain. Something in his opera house had gone wrong, and Erik had a feeling he knew the prime character in the situation.

"Christine," was all he said before racing to her mirror. How he hoped she was all right, although his mind told him otherwise.

Erik could make his way to Christine's mirror with his eyes closed if he wished, and that was a very good thing. He was there in two minutes' time while it would probably take others ten to twenty.

He looked through the mirror in shock with horror in his eyes. "Wha-," he whispered. The picture was that of Christine laying on her flowery bed with Joseph Buquet, someone he already had a grudge against for spreading unnecessary rumors of the 'opera ghost', on top of her unmoving body. The man was lifting her skirts.

_What does she think she is doing? _he thought in horror. Erik's paleness turned to a shade of pure white. Then, however, it turned red with anger. _But, wait! What is this?_ He studied Christine's lovely face and, in seconds, realized what was going on. _She is asleep, but it is forced sleep. She is unconscious…_ His eyes glowed dangerously towards Buquet, who was obviously the cause of her unconsciousness. Erik knew all about the drugs in this world. In fact, he had been taught to make many of them at a very young age.

Without thoughts of consequences, only thoughts of death, Erik opened the mirror and ran into the room with such quick and silent grace that Buquet did not know what hit him so hard in the jaw. "Get out," the man in the mask said with deadly power.

Joseph Buquet ran as fast as he could from Christine's chambers. He would never return again.

Erik quickly checked his love's breathing and nervously smoothed her dress down. He could not possibly be around when she awoke, but she needed immediate attention.

Then, a plan formed. He would find Madame Giry. She would help his protégé.

And so, after moving a strand of her gorgeous curly brown hair from her flawlessly beautiful face, he was off.

Traveling through the opera house was quite the difficult maze, but Erik made the journey with ease. Of course, he had been around this environment for fifteen years…

Madame Giry was found in the first place he chose to look: her office.

"Madame Giry."

His voice filled the air causing all she was carrying to be dropped. "Y-yes?" Madame Giry always was a bit frightened of the opera ghost. In fact, he was the only thing on earth she was frightened of.

"Christine is in trouble. Go to her chambers. She has been drugged. Hurry."

His information caused Madame Giry's eyes to widen. "Good God. How did this happen?"

"Do not ask questions!"

Madame Giry was much older than Erik, but she could not help but cringe like a child at his command. "You are right. I will go. Thank you for informing me of the situation."

Before she was out the door, Erik reminded her, "Do not be clumsy."

"I never am," she simply replied before running towards Christine's chambers.

Erik raced her back to Christine's mirror and won easily.

Madame Giry went to Christine's side and felt for breathing. "You poor thing," she whispered. She then left the room to find her daughter.

Meg was found in the dining hall. "Megan, you must hurry to Christine's room!"

"Why? Wha-"

"There is no time for explanation! I must find the managers! Go!" Both women went their separate ways.

Ten minutes later, the managers, Meg, Madame Giry, and a now-awake, but still unaware of her environment, Christine were in her room. Erik was standing behind the mirror watching everything.

"Something must be done!" Madame Giry was sipping tea, since she made a pot for Christine, on a couch.

"Madame, bringing the police in would be of no help. There is no proof." Firmin and Andre stood near the door watching Christine as she sat with her head down.

"Will she be ok? Will she be able to sing?" Meg asked.

"I- it does not look like it," Firmin replied.

"This is awful!" yelled Andre. "What will we do?"

It was Madame Giry who answered. "Carlotta will have to sing."

Everyone looked at her, including Erik, in shock.

"What?" Meg yelled. "She does not deserve that! It is Christine's-"

"No, Madame Giry is right," Andre concluded. "Madame Giry is very right. Come, Firmin, we have some groveling to do." They left with apparent nerves of their coming task.

Erik stood unmoving but furious behind the mirror. _How could that woman? How could she? I ordered her to take care of Christine, but she has now ensured her demise! How dare she?_

"Mother, how could you? Christine will be so upset!" Meg held Christine's hand knowing her dear friend really had no idea what was going on.

"No, Megan, Christine will understand, as should you. Which is better?: Christine not singing and a full house of refunds?, or keeping the opera house busy by performing the opera? Hmm?"

"Well, I guess you are right. It is still horrible, though. I mean, it is _Carlotta_."

"Yes, I know." Madame Giry looked towards Christine's mirror apologetically before saying, "Come, Megan. We have rehearsal."

"But, what about Christine? We cannot just leave her here!"

"She will be fine. Now, come!" They left the room quietly.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Erik stared at his Christine for a while. _Even when she is in this sad state, she is an angel. But, she must come out of it. It could cause serious damage. And, I am the only one who can rouse her._

"Christine, angel…" He forced his voice to be richer and more magical than ever.

For a moment, she did not look up. But then, she blinked. Christine was out of her daze. "A- angel?"

"Yes, dear child, I am here."

"What happened to me? I feel, well, almost intoxicated… or something."

"My poor Christine." He considered what to say next. '_You have been drugged?' No, that will scare her. 'Joseph Buquet slipped something into your drink'? That will scare her worse. Maybe I will not tell her. It is not as if there are not many lies between us already. _"You have been sick, dear."

"I have?" Her face took on a look of horror.

"Yes."

"But, I do not remember anything. I did feel faint, though… in the dining hall."

"Yes, you were very ill."

"But, I feel better now! Well, a little.." Then, her face went pale. "What about tonight. It is the last performance! Wh- who knows what has happened, Angel?"

"Everyone, child. I am so sorry." Erik was becoming furious thinking about this final performance.

"So, they know I am, I mean _was_, ill. What does this mean?"

He sighed. "Carlotta is singing tonight, Christine." Her eyes widened. "I know you are upset by this."

"She is singing in.. my place? But.. I will miss my final performance? No! That witch cannot sing!"

Her anger was marveling. "I know." Then, an idea, an _evil_ idea, came to mind. "I will do what I can, Christine."

"Angel?" There was no answer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

The performance time came quickly, and Erik was ready. He made his way to the balcony, Box 5 to be exact, ready to perform.

Carlotta came onstage on cue with snobbish victory shining through her ugly eyes. It was disgusting.

When she sang, Erik closed his eyes and covered his ears. It was obvious the audience was disappointed with the change in leads.

Finally, during her final aria, "Think of Me," Erik decided it was time.

With evil menace, his voice rose through the crowd and covered Carlotta's. "Ladies and gentlemen, you are now hearing the voice of a toad! Standing ovations will not come tonight! They would, though, if Ms. Daae were singing. Damn the ones responsible for her absence! Damn those responsible for her illness!"

With that, he ran from Box 5 and made his way to the cat walk above stage. _This will be all too easy._

He ran towards Joseph Buquet, who barely had time to blink before cold hands and a Punjab lasso were around his filthy neck.

"You will never hurt Christine again," the Phantom whispered before the sound of a crack could be heard, indicating Buquet's broken neck. The man was dead.

Then, Erik tied the rope of the lasso to the wood of the cat walk floor and threw Buquet's dead body to the stage below, his neck still in the lasso's hold.

Screams could be heard everywhere. They were music to Erik's ears. He wiped his hands clean and walked away, back to behind Christine's mirror.

Christine could feel her angel's presence once more. "Erik?"

"Yes, my angel. You will sing tonight. You will."

"But, how do you-"

"Christine!" a voice yelled from the doorway.

"Raoul?" She turned towards him confused. There were people running in every direction past the entryway behind him. "Raoul, what is it?"

"Christine." He was completely out of breath. "I heard about earlier. I think you are in danger. Someone has been murdered. They want you to sing. I cannot let you! I believe you are in trouble. Please, come with me! We will find a quiet place- the roof! We can talk there!"

Christine listened but did not look like she wanted to go anywhere with him. "Why can we not talk here? Hmm? You do not wish for me to sing? You do not control me, Raoul!"

"Christine, did you heard what I said? A man has been murdered!"

She hadn't comprehended that part and gasped. "A man? Here? Who?"

"Someone named Joseph Buquet." Her eyes widened. "Did you know him?"

"Yes… My God, why? What happened?"

Raoul closed the door and sat on Christine's couch. "A man people call the Phantom of the Opera insulted Carlotta in front of the whole audience."

"You mean, you saw him?"

"Wha-, we, no, we did not see him. We only heard him. He had a strong voice, and he seemed to want you to sing."

She gasped again. "Me? Are you certain?"

"There is not another Daae in this Opera House. The important part remains that a man was murdered moments after his speech. There is a murderer in our midst, Christine."

She sank onto the couch next to Raoul trying to take in the information. "What about the managers? What do they have to say about this?"

"Well, I was sitting with them when it happened, and I volunteered to get you."

"Get me for what?"

"They want you to sing. They are complying to the _Phantom's_ orders! They want the show to go on. It is insane! I said I would get you, and I have. But, not to sing. We must leave. Together."

"Leave? Raoul-"

"Christine, this place is not right. I can find more work easily enough. I am through with being patron. We can be happy together."

"We? Raoul, there is no 'we'. I have only just met you after being apart for ten years. Why must you act as if we are a couple?"

He touched her cheek. "Lotte, I have not forgotten you after all these years. You are always on my mind. This meeting was not chance. It is fate that we have seen each other again."

"Yes, yes, it might be fate, but not in the way that you think. We are not meant to be, Raoul. You are meant for another. I am a performer. You cannot possibly think that your family would be proud to have a singer as your wife."

Raoul's confidence slipped. "You really wish to continue singing here?"

"Of course."

"But, why?"

"Raoul, there is a powerful force which holds me here, and I do not want that to change."

His boyish charm finally turned into a cool business-like manner. "So, this is your decision, then?"

"Yes… I am sorry, Raoul."

"Think nothing of it. Good day, Mademoiselle." With that, he left the room.

Christine stood and sighed in frustration. "Well, that went well," she said sarcastically.

"Yes, it did," Erik answered.

"Angel, how were you so sure I would sing. I do not understand."

"I just was, Christine."

"But, I am still here. I am not onstage."

"Someone will come for you soon. Now, let us warm up."

"Wait. Someone is dead, Angel. I cannot just sing while there is a tragedy going on elsewhere."

"Others will tend to it." He was becoming impatient.

"Angel, you.. didn't.. _arrange_ what happened, did you?"

"How could I? I am not capable. Now, sing."

"No." Christine put her hands on her hips persistently.

It was the first time she had ever defied him. "What? Christine, I said, sing!"

"No, not yet. Angel, I must see you! I do not believe you cannot take human form. There is a body behind that voice. I know there is."

Her demands were becoming intolerable. "There is no body, Christine! There is only this voice! Sing! Now!"

Suddenly, Christine broke down in sobs. "Why will you not show yourself? I feel like I am worthy of seeing. I do everything you ask! Everything!"

_Everything._ This, Erik knew, was very true. _She would probably kill someone if I asked it._

He could never stand it when she cried. His defense was fading.

"I just want to see my angel!" There was a pause with only heavy sobs filling the air.

Erik could say nothing.

Christine finally whispered. "I love you…"

This proclamation caused Erik to take a step backwards. "You what?" He did not care to show shock in his voice.

Christine backed away and covered her face with her hands. "I- I cannot believe I just said that! I am so sorry, Master! Please, forgive me!" She fell to the ground in tears while begging.

In all of his wildest dreams, he never thought-.. _She- she loves.. me.._ He could take it no longer. "Christine, stand."

Even when she cried and tried not to obey, she did so anyway.

_What am I doing? I mustn't. But, I must.. _"Come to the mirror, Christine."

Christine turned towards her mirror with questioning and tear-stricken eyes. She took a few steps forward. Her reflection was all she could see.

Then, suddenly, her reflection disappeared! In its place stood a tall, skinny man clad in all black attire. He had black hair, oddly golden eyes, and a mask- a white mask that covered the entire right side of his face.

Dazedly, Christine moved forward towards her false angel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

Erik thought Christine was going to kiss him. She was just so close.

Instead, she brought a shaky hand up and touched his lips, thinking the mirror might still be there. When she knew it was not, Christine jumped back. "You… You- you're the Phantom!"

_How did she know? _he thought sarcastically. "Christine-"

"No! No, get away from me!"

Her command made him cringe. "Christine it is me. It is your angel."

"No! You are not my angel! You are not my friend! You are the Phantom of the Opera!" She backed up until her back came in contact with her dresser.

"Christine, listen to me. I may not be an angel, but I _am_ your friend. You know I am."

"No, I don't know who you are. It has all been a lie! Every bit of it!"

"Yes, you are right. But, my friendship is still there. I did this for your sake. You were scared-"

"Yes, well I am more scared than _ever_ now!"

Without responding to her exclamation, he continued, "You were scared and alone. You wanted an angel. I only gave you what you wished for." He did not move into the room. That would only frighten her more.

"I- I need to think." Without another word, she fled from the room.

Erik moaned in frustration. _I have to make her understand! Her proclamation of love was a lie. I can never hope to have her love, but I need her understanding._ Now, Christine would go to one of three places: Meg's room, the roof, or her father's grave. Since this was a serious issue, he assumed she would go to the grave.

So, he closed the mirror and headed down to gather his fedora and cloak. Then, he was on his way.

LLLLLLLLLLL

The graveyard was dark, dreary, and cold. Snow was falling.. Hopefully, thanks to the weather, no one besides Christine would be there.

Erik's first thought upon viewing the weather was to protect Christine from the cold. Illness was the last thing she needed.

This, Erik decided, would be difficult. Getting Christine to understand, to actually trust him, would be a challenging task.

He stepped onto the grounds of the eerie grave yard glaring at the statues of angels. Angels were the cause of this entire situation. Erik never believed in such things, and now, Christine felt the same.

Her father's grave was one of the last ones, and since Erik could not risk being seen, it took him quite some time to get there.

Finally, he saw her. Christine was sitting on the snow-covered ground with her face bent over. Tears fell to the already wet ground.

Erik could only assume her thoughts. _'Daddy, why? You promised me an angel, but you gave me a monster!'_

Oh, how he dreaded the day of the lie! What pain and sorrow it has caused! _But, without it, I may not have fallen in love with her._

_This will have to be the performance of a lifetime,_ he decided.

Erik crept behind a particularly tall angelic statue and began to sing. He could not see her, but he heard Christine's crying cease. That only meant one thing. _She is listening._

Once the song ended, he began a new melody. "Come to your angel of music…"

Christine then spoke. "Angel?" It was as if she believed once more.

"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, child."

"Father? Friend? Phantom? Which are you, for I know you cannot be an angel!"

"I am your angel of music…" he sang. "Come to your angel of music…"

"My mind fights against you…" Erik almost tried something else, for he had many tricks up his sleeve. But then, "But, my soul obeys."

He sighed in relief.

"Angel, I defied you. I am sorry. I turned from you. Angel, do not hide. Come to me!"

Erik peeked around the statue to see what in god's name was wrong with her. _I showed myself before. Does she really not remember?_ "Oh, Christine."

Slowly, he walked towards his angel. She gasped and fell to her knees. Again, the trust crumbled.

Instead of showing defiance, Christine only cried. Loud, horrible sobs, she cried.

Erik was instantly there by her side. He first removed his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then, he touched her shoulder in a comforting gesture, for he was far too timid to do more. "Christine, please, do not cry. I will not hurt you."

"You- you already have!" She buried her face in her hands.

Not knowing what to do, he continued to barely touch her shoulder while she cried, although her words tore at every fiber of his being.

So, for the better part of thirty minutes, Christine allowed Erik to stay with her, although she wasn't really aware enough to truly acknowledge his presence, due to distress.

Erik did not dare move in case Christine should happen to push him away… again. This time, he would wait it out. _Who knows what will come of it._

Minutes later, Christine's body slowly, oh so slowly, fell forward until her head came to rest on Erik's chest. Her crying was no more.

Erik was too stunned to breathe. _What just happened?_ He was about ready to move away from such undeserved contact, but it then hit him.

_She is asleep_. He smiled ever so slightly. _All energy has been exerted from her body. She cannot cry any longer._

He smoothed her brown curls for a long time thinking of nothing but the feeling of it. _I could spend my entire life taking care of this girl. I __**will**__ take care of her._ But, he could not live to take care of her still body alone. _If only I could communicate with her. If only she would forgive me, understand me, love me. _He decided earlier that such things would never come true. So, if he could only have her in sleep, then so be it.

When the chill of the night began to cause even Erik to shiver, something had to change.

Erik thought for a while, but only one solution kept presenting itself. _To take her to my lair would be complete insanity! -But, I would love her.- Well, it is true. I __**am **__insane, so I might as well take her there. Maybe I can make her understand and accept._

Erik picked up the still Christine and just stood there with his eyes closed in ecstasy. _She is so light-weight._ He had picked her up countless times in their many years together, but never had it felt like _this_.

He was becoming quite possessive over his princess. Perhaps too much so, but it did not matter to him. He was so far gone in love that nothing mattered but their relationship.

Erik then genuinely smiled. _I will now have the chance to show her everything! My home, my inventions, my music, my life. Maybe she can help me as I have helped her for all of these years. _Erik's blue eyes glowed. _She can help me make the music of the night._

LLLLLLLLLLL

It took longer than usual to get to the desired location, for Erik had to dodge the stares of people. _They would probably think I am kidnapping her._ Then again, was he? Who knew if she would comply to this, although Erik inwardly knew she would not.

Her desires did not matter to Erik any longer, though. Well, only if her desires dealt with love for him, did they matter. Love was driving him mad.

When they reached the opera house, Erik quickly walked inside one of the many secret passageways. Then, he headed down. He headed down to the lake, which was on the lowest level. No one dared come to such a place, for they believed there was only water. Erik knew otherwise.

With grace and strength, he stepped into his hand-crafted gondola and set Christine down easily in order to row. Joy tugged at his heart. Bringing Christine to such a place was something he'd only dreamt of.

In his cheer, he sang. It was a song entitled, "Music of the Night". _Very appropriate,_ he thought.

Christine awoke on the boat to the sound of his singing. As if in a dream, she slowly sat up on the blanketed surface. She never wondered for a second where she might be. Only the music mattered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for the reviews! Each one means a lot to me, so thank you again.**

**Chapter 6 **

Erik continued to sing knowing Christine was now awake. _If I stop, she will do something irrational. She could fall out of the gondola._ So, he sang of his desires for her.

Christine's mind was absorbed in the words. Her knowledge entwined with the meaning of the song, and she leaned back until she was lying down once more.

Erik sucked in a breath and began singing more sensually and powerfully than before.

Her eyes looked up into his masked face. His mouth moved in accordance with the words and sounds it produced. _Such beauty,_ she thought. Christine could stay like this forever.

The gondola suddenly came to a slight thumping end as it came in contact with stone.

Christine sat up abruptly, her mind almost becoming clear from the song's magic.

But, Erik would have none of that. He slowly knelt down to her level still singing. He then gently turned her body towards his own so she would stop looking towards his home. He wanted her to look and know only him.

Their faces were close, and Christine's eyes were wide as she gazed at him.

Erik thought she had never looked so beautiful, and he touched her cheek. Then, following the song's words, he grasped her hand and brought it up to the unmasked side of his face. He held her hand there.

Christine would not have moved her hand, even if he were not holding it there. His skin was so soft, but so cold. She wished to warm him.

He then did something very risky. Erik picked Christine up _with_ her knowledge. He did it in rhythm with his song, and she seemed to comply. Actually, she did more than that. She kept her hand on his cheek and leant her head against his chest!

Christine could feel the vibration of his words and the beat of his heart. She closed her eyes.

Erik carried her out of the gondola and walked towards the entrance of his home.

His home looked to be regular enough. There was a door leading inside, wood siding, and windows. The only difference between regular and irregular was that the house was in the lowest basement of an opera house instead of standing regularly on the streets of Paris.

He opened the door and walked inside with the last word of the song lingering in the air. Then, he turned, locked the door, and set his angel on the ground so she was standing in front of him.

The song had ended, and Christine slowly came back to reality. _The door is locked.._ "Who are you?" she suddenly whispered looking into his face.

Blue eyes met with golden. "You know who I am. I am Erik," he whispered.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered back.

Then, with all of the vocal beauty he possessed, he whispered, "I am doing this because I love you…"

Christine gasped slightly and closed her eyes, turning her face away. After a moment, she looked up into his face again. "But, how-"

Erik interrupted by placing a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture. Then, he glided towards a piano he'd stolen from the opera house and began playing a gentle song.

Christine again became prisoner to the amazing sounds. She walked over and sat on the bench beside him. She didn't dare speak.

Erik played through the song and began another.. and another.. and another.. It was all he could do to keep his angel by his side. He hoped the music would plaster itself in her mind, and she would be his forever.

But, as all things must, it came to an end.

Christine shook her head and stood. "How can it do that to me?"

"What do you speak of, Christine?"

"Your music! It- it just does something to me. I cannot think straight. It frightens me." She stood and wrapped her arms around herself in fear.

"I do not wish to frighten you, Christine." He did not move but began inwardly condemning himself.

She stared at a wall with a strange painting upon it. "But.. I do not wish for the music to stop." Christine turned towards his sitting form. "I love your music..."

_So, that is what she spoke of when she said she loved me. Alas, it was only my song._ He could not think of anything to say.

"What is this?" She pointed to the painting on the wall.

"It is a painting of a cloudy and starless night sky."

"Oh.." Changing subjects, she stated, "So, this is the music room." She looked around and saw the piano, a violin, a cello, and the most gorgeous organ she had ever seen. The question of how he had acquired all of these instruments entered her curious mind, but she refrained from asking.

"Yes, it is. Allow me to show you the rest of my home."

Christine's brow furrowed. _When will I leave?_ "Is it necessary?"

_You shall be staying here for a long time.. _"Yes, it is."

"But-"

"Please, my dear. Follow me." He left, and she slowly followed. "This," he walked into the kitchen, "is the kitchen. You will eat here."

She stayed silent.

He moved on. "This is the living room. You will read here." He pointed towards the many books on the shelves. Before she could say anything, he moved on.

They walked down a hall, and there was a room on the right. The door was closed. "_Never_ enter this room." Christine cringed at his words but nodded.

They continued walking. "Now," he calmly said, "This is your room." He walked inside the room and Christine followed with a worried face.

"Look at your room, Christine." She did. Its walls were pink. The bed had a flowery comforter, the furniture white. There were several porcelain dolls with brown curly hair on a dresser. There was a full-length mirror standing on the floor in a corner. It was the first mirror Christine had seen in the house. She was beginning to become very nervous.

"Um, it's lovely, but I cannot stay here." She began to move towards the door, but Erik intercepted her movements.

"Why, Christine?"

"Please move, Erik. You know I must go back to the opera house." She tried to keep calm, but it was becoming hard.

"My dear, you are _in_ the opera house."

"What?" she asked startled. "How?"

"We are several floors below."

"Erik, I must go back up." She was beginning to become frantic. "I must sing! You still want me to sing, do you not?"

"Of course I do. And, you will return. Just, not yet. You will stay here for a few days." He crossed his arms against his chest to emphasize that his decision would not be swayed.

"Wha- No! You cannot keep me here!" She again tried to get past him. "Let me go!"

"No, Christine." He would not budge.

Christine began to push at his chest. "Please! Please!"

Erik sighed and gently took hold of her hands before she could touch him again. He looked deeply into her eyes. "No. No, Christine." He watched as her face fell to defeat. "Now, I will give you time to think. You like that." He left the room and closed the door.

Instantly, Christine tried to leave, but the door was locked. She banged on it helplessly. Then, when defeat finally fell upon her, she lay on her bed with anger streaming through her veins. _He will not get away with this._

OOOOOOOOOO

Meanwhile, Erik went to the living room and paced. _Why can she not accept this? Why? Why? Of course, it is my appearance! Damn this face! Damn it to hell! If only… _

He sighed and went to the kitchen. Bread, cheese, and wine were all he had. It would just have to do.

Then, he went back to Christine's room. He was tempted to walk in to catch a glimpse of his beloved, but, instead, he quietly unlocked the door and walked away.

The music room was calling him. He felt the urge to work on his opera, his masterpiece.

Some ideas were presenting themselves. A new song.. The completion.. The song's title: Point of No Return. The title excited him. Christine had to accept that she had reached her point of no return, but in only one way. She would never return to a normal life.

The song would not be about _that_, though. Sensual thoughts were all he had on his mind. But, he could not make them known to her. He may never be able to. And, if that was the case, he would never be able to _show_ her his love. _Not without her consent._ He would not make the first move in that way.

He silently composed finding that he did not need to play what he wrote.

When he was satisfied with the first draft, he moved to his organ. A nice, horribly haunting song came to mind, and he played hoping _someone_ would notice. _Please, Christine… Come to me…_


End file.
